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The Illustrated Works of Shakespeare
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Illustrated Works of Shakespeare, The (1990)(Animated Pixels)[!][CDTV-PC].iso
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03_01
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1991-04-10
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281 lines
Another part of the Park.
Enter ARMADO and MOTH.
Armado Warble, child; make passionate my sense of hearing.
Moth [Sings.] Concolinel.
Armado Sweet air! Go, tenderness of years, take this key, give
enlargement to the swain, bring him festinately hither. I
must employ him in a letter to my love.
Moth Master, will you win your love with a French brawl?
Armado How meanest thou - brawling in French?
Moth No, my complete master; but to jig off a tune at the tongue's
end, canary to it with your feet, humour it with turning up
your eyelids, sigh a note and sing a note, sometime through
the throat as if you swallowed love with singing love,
sometime through the nose, as if you snuffed up love by
smelling love, with your hat penthouse-like o'er the shop of
your eyes, with your arms crossed on your thin-belly doublet
like a rabbit on a spit, or your hands in your pocket like a
man after the old painting; and keep not too long in one
tune, but a snip and away. These are complements, these are
humours, these betray nice wenches that would be betrayed
without these; and make them men of note - do you note, men?
- that most are affected to these.
Armado How hast thou purchased this experience?
Moth By my penny of observation.
Armado But O, but O-
Moth The hobby-horse is forgot.
Armado Call'st thou my love hobby-horse?
Moth No, master, the hobby-horse is but a colt, and your love
perhaps a hackney. But have you forgot your love?
Armado Almost I had.
Moth Negligent student! Learn her by heart.
Armado By heart, and in heart, boy.
Moth And out of heart, master; all those three I will prove.
Armado What wilt thou prove?
Moth A man, if I live; and this, 'by', 'in', and 'without', upon
the instant. By heart you love her, because your heart cannot
come by her; in heart you love her, because your heart is in
love with her; and out of heart you love her, being out of
heart that you cannot enjoy her.
Armado I am all these three.
Moth And three times as much more, and yet nothing at all.
Armado Fetch hither the swain; he must carry me a letter.
Moth A message well sympathized: a horse to be ambassador for an
ass!
Armado Ha, ha, what sayest thou?
Moth Marry, sir, you must send the ass upon the horse, for he is
very slow-gaited. But I go.
Armado The way is but short - away!
Moth As swift as lead, sir.
Armado The meaning, pretty ingenious?
Is not lead a metal heavy, dull, and slow?
Moth Minime, honest master; or rather, master, no.
Armado I say lead is slow.
Moth You are too swift, sir, to say so.
Is that lead slow which is fired from a gun?
Armado Sweet smoke of rhetoric!
He reputes me a cannon; and the bullet, that's he.
I shoot thee at the swain.
Moth Thump then, and I flee.
[Exit.
Armado A most acute juvenal: voluble and free of grace.
By thy favour, sweet welkin, I must sigh in thy face.
Most rude melancholy, valour gives thee place.
My herald is returned.
Re-enter MOTH with COSTARD.
Moth A wonder, master! Here's a costard broken in a shin.
Armado Some enigma, some riddle. Come, thy l'envoy; begin.
Costard No egma, no riddle, no l'envoy, no salve in the mail, sir. O,
sir, plantain, a plain plantain: no l'envoy, no l'envoy, no
salve, sir, but a plantain.
Armado By virtue, thou enforcest laughter; thy silly thought, my
spleen; the heaving of my lungs provokes me to ridiculous
smiling. O, pardon me, my stars! Doth the inconsiderate take
salve for l'envoy, and the word 'l'envoy' for a salve?
Moth Do the wise think them other? Is not l'envoy a salve?
Armado No, page; it is an epilogue or discourse to make plain
Some obscure precedence that hath tofore been sain.
I will example it:
The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee,
Were still at odds, being but three.
There's the moral. Now the l'envoy.
Moth I will add the l'envoy. Say the moral again.
Armado The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee,
Were still at odds, being but three.
Moth Until the goose came out of door,
And stayed the odds by adding four.
Now will I begin your moral, and do you follow with my
l'envoy.
The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee,
Were still at odds, being but three.
Armado Until the goose came out of door,
Staying the odds by adding four.
Moth A good l'envoy, ending in the goose. Would you desire more?
Costard The boy hath sold him a bargain, a goose, that's flat.
Sir, your pennyworth is good an your goose be fat.
To sell a bargain well is as cunning as fast and loose.
Let me see: a fat l'envoy; ay, that's a fat goose.
Armado Come hither, come hither. How did this argument begin?
Moth By saying that a costard was broken in a shin.
Then called you for the l'envoy.
Costard True, and I for a plantain: thus came your argument in. Then
the boy's fat l'envoy, the goose that you bought; and he
ended the market.
Armado But tell me, how was there a costard broken in a shin?
Moth I will tell you sensibly.
Costard Thou hast no feeling of it, Moth; I will speak that l'envoy.
I, Costard, running out, that was safely within,
Fell over the threshold and broke my shin.
Armado We will talk no more of this matter.
Costard Till there be more matter in the shin.
Armado Sirrah Costard, I will enfranchise thee.
Costard O, marry me to one Frances! I smell some l'envoy, some goose,
in this.
Armado By my sweet soul, I mean setting thee at liberty,
enfreedoming thy person: thou wert immured, restrained,
captivated, bound.
Costard True, true, and now you will be my purgation and let me
loose.
Armado I give thee thy liberty, set thee from durance, and in lieu
thereof, impose on thee nothing but this.
[Giving him a letter.
Bear this significant to the country maid Jaquenetta. There
is remuneration,
[Giving him money.
for the best ward of mine honour is rewarding my dependants.
Moth, follow.
[Exit.
Moth Like the sequel, I. Signor Costard, adieu.
Costard My sweet ounce of man's flesh, my incony Jew!
[Exit MOTH.
Now will I look to his remuneration. Remuneration! O, that's
the Latin word for three farthings. Three farthings -
remuneration. - 'What's the price of this inkle?' 'One
penny.' 'No, I'll give you a remuneration.' Why, it carries
it. - Remuneration! - why it is a fairer name than French
crown. I will never buy and sell out of this word.
Enter BEROWNE.
Berowne My good knave Costard, exceedingly well met!
Costard Pray you, sir, how much carnation ribbon may a man buy for a
remuneration?
Berowne What is a remuneration?
Costard Marry, sir, halfpenny farthing.
Berowne Why then, three-farthing worth of silk.
Costard I thank your worship. God be wi'you!
Berowne Stay, slave; I must employ thee.
As thou wilt win my favour, good my knave,
Do one thing for me that I shall entreat.
Costard When would you have it done, sir?
Berowne This afternoon.
Costard Well, I will do it, sir. Fare you well.
Berowne Thou knowest not what it is.
Costard I shall know, sir, when I have done it.
Berowne Why, villain, thou must know first.
Costard I will come to your worship tomorrow morning.
Berowne It must be done this afternoon.
Hark slave, it is but this:
The princess comes to hunt here in the park,
And in her train there is a gentle lady;
When tongues speak sweetly, then they name her name,
And Rosaline they call her: ask for her,
And to her white hand see thou do commend
This sealed-up counsel.
[Giving a letter.
There's thy guerdon; go.
[Giving a shilling.
Costard Gardon, O sweet gardon! Better than remuneration; a 'leven-
pence farthing better. Most sweet gardon! I will do it, sir,
in print. Gardon - remuneration!
[Exit.
Berowne And I, forsooth, in love! I, that have been love's whip,
A very beadle to a humorous sigh,
A critic, nay, a night-watch constable,
A domineering pedant o'er the boy,
Than whom no mortal so magnificent!
This wimpled, whining, purblind, wayward boy,
This Signor Junior, giant-dwarf, Dan Cupid,
Regent of love-rhymes, lord of folded arms,
Th' anointed sovereign of sighs and groans,
Liege of all loiterers and malcontents,
Dread prince of plackets, king of codpieces,
Sole imperator and great general
Of trotting paritors - O my little heart!
And I to be a corporal of his field,
And wear his colours like a tumbler's hoop!
What? I love, I sue, I seek a wife?
A woman that is like a German clock,
Still a-repairing, ever out of frame,
And never going aright, being a watch,
But being watched that it may still go right!
Nay, to be perjured, which is worst of all;
And, among three, to love the worst of all,
A whitely wanton with a velvet brow,
With two pitch-balls stuck in her face for eyes;
Ay, and, by heaven, one that will do the deed
Though Argus were her eunuch and her guard.
And I to sigh for her, to watch for her,
To pray for her! Go to; it is a plague
That Cupid will impose for my neglect
Of his almighty dreadful little might.
Well, I will love, write, sigh, pray, sue, and groan:
Some men must love my lady, and some Joan.
[Exit.